


I let him take all my gold

by Starbrow



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Arming kink, Book/Movie: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Clothed Sex, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26350579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbrow/pseuds/Starbrow
Summary: Should they talk about it? Deathwater Island? They should, and they do. All that unresolved sexual tension has to go *somewhere*, right?(Spoilers: it does.)First two chapters are G, last one is E!
Relationships: Caspian/Edmund Pevensie
Comments: 15
Kudos: 197
Collections: Narnia Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FakeCirilla9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/gifts).



> This is set heavily in Voyage of the Dawn Treader movie-verse, and is intended to string together a bunch of the themes from the Casmund scenes that DID make it into the film, and the deleted scenes which are a treasure trove of Casmund. Seriously, if you haven't watched those, treat yourself.
> 
> To my delight, they really did all fit together in a meaningful arc for these two. (Either that, or I'm really trying to convince myself there's some plot with this p0rn.) If you just want to ride this ride for the fuzzies and skip the p0rn, Ch. 1 and 2 are your best bet. Enjoy!

They were supposed to be figuring out a solution to the Dragoned Eustace problem. Instead, by the fire that night on Dragon Island, Edmund found himself dwelling on everything else that had happened today. Now that he had time to reflect on it all, it seemed almost impossible that he could have said and done such things. How could it have come to blows between him and Caspian? When they should be brothers in arms? After all that he had tried to leave far behind him?

His gaze shifted to Caspian across the fire, who met his look and, after a moment, picked up his cloak and crossed the distance between them. Edmund was quiet as the other King settled beside him on the sand, quite close, so that they could talk and not be overheard by the others (with the exception of Reepicheep whose honour could be counted upon, and Eustace’s whose could not but the Dragoning took care of that).

“Any ideas yet?” Caspian asked, dutifully.

Edmund laughed, rueful. “What do you think?”

“From watching your face...I’d say your thoughts have been a lot like mine.”

Edmund rubbed at his face with a hand. “Am I that transparent?”

“Only to someone close to the situation.”

He sighed and pressed his palm to his forehead. “My thoughts might be clearer if my conscience were lighter.”

Caspian clasped his hands around his gathered knees and stared into the fire. “We need all the clear thoughts we can find.”

Their situation had afforded them a precious opportunity to talk. To not just let it all go unspoken and pretend it had never happened, as he and Peter might have done. Up until now, there had been simply no time to set things to rights. The crisis of Eustace, finding Lord Octesian the victim of a Dragon’s lair, finding said Dragon as it kidnapped Edmund, only to discover it was Eustace himself, had consumed their attentions after Deathwater Island. For any time in their quest, it would have been a harrowing day. But this day in particular…

Edmund knew they could not afford to pretend. They would need each other’s loyalty and trust for this journey, for whatever lay ahead. Caspian needed his support, his cooperation, not his pride and selfishness. 

And so he put aside his pride, and with it, he hoped, another layer of selfishness. “I made an absolute ass of myself today, Caspian. It wasn’t just the gold. It was - the things I said about you. Things I don’t even believe.”

Caspian lightly snorted. “Spineless sap? You wouldn’t be the only one to think it of me.”

“This thing that stalks us...it twists our thoughts,” Edmund said slowly. “You do doubt yourself. But that doesn’t make you spineless.”

The firelight illuminated the contemplation in Caspian’s frown, the way his brow deepened, his jaw a shadow-cut line. “No. It just makes me a weak leader.”

Edmund felt guilt prickle at his gut twice-over for confirming Caspian’s doubts this day. But perhaps some good could come of it too. “Remember what Aslan said. You didn’t think you were ready to become King, but that was the very reason you were. A weak leader never questions what they do, never learns from their mistakes or considers others’ perspectives. You do.”

Caspian nodded. His brows unknitted a little, but into something like regret. “I still have so much to learn, though.”

Who knew that feeling better than Edmund? “Nobody was born knowing how to lead,” he said, putting a hand on Caspian’s arm. “And nobody was born a perfect leader. We certainly weren’t. We learned the hard way. We failed. And we did things better because of it. ” 

The other King, finally, turned to look at him. Really, truly look at him. There was understanding in that gaze. Compassion. “You really were children, when you became Kings and Queens.”

A child, when he’d first eaten tainted food. A child, when he’d sold his brother and sisters, and when he’d fought in a war he’d barely been ready for, and realized his life had been paid for in death and Deep Magic.

A lifetime ago, a few years of growing up by his own world’s count. “A part of us still is, I think,” said Edmund. “You weren’t entirely wrong. Coming back to Narnia awakens our true selves again, but we’ve spent so much time away, in England...we can’t hold onto it.”

Caspian was quiet for a few moments, contemplative. “You said...when you first saw the gold, you wanted to bring it back with you so that you and Lucy could live freely and be happy again in your world, if you could not be in Narnia. It was not a wholly selfish wish.”

Edmund didn’t reply. I can’t lose this life again...but I must. It is selfish to dream of anything different.

“Edmund.” Caspian covered the hand on his arm with a clasp of his own. “I would keep you here if I could. You and Lucy...you belong here, ruling with me.”

Edmund would take the leap of gladness at such words for what it was, an indulgent emotion that had no basis in reality. For Aslan had made it clear last time that they had come for a purpose, to save Narnia and install Caspian upon the throne, and it seemed just as clear this time that their purpose was to help him in this quest and bolster his leadership. And when those things were done...so would their time in Narnia be.

Yet tell that to his own beating heart, hammering inside his chest at the sword-calloused grip of Caspian’s palm over the back of his hand. The second time today that they had clasped hands - first to get Restimar’s sword from the pool, when Caspian had pulled him back to safety - and now, he struggled to find only brotherly feelings towards the man by his side.

He let out a long breath. “You don’t need us to rule Narnia. But while we are with you...you have my backing. I promise.”

“Thank you, Ed.” Caspian made no move to let go; rather, his grip tightened. “You are so sure I don’t need you. I think today proves how susceptible I am, too. I made just as much of an ass of myself. What would have happened if it had been me and Drinian in that cave? Any of the other men, and not the two of you?”

“I don’t know,” Edmund admitted, and he didn’t like to think about it much...Caspian fighting with any of the others, someone slipping and falling into that pool… “It won’t be the last mistake you ever make as King, you know. There will be lots more.” He tipped his head back thoughtfully and glanced Caspian’s way.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Caspian gave a small chuckle, and met his eyes with a wry look. 

Edmund laughed too. “It comes with the territory.” He laced his fingers between Caspian’s. “You’ll survive. With our help, of course.” 

“So comforting, Your Majesty.”

Though the night wind was chilled across the rocky shore, the warmth of Eustace’s fire and parried words and each other’s presence well made up for it. Edmund felt infinitely lighter, and his thoughts both clearer and more tangled for the confessions and the revelations of tonight. If he managed to conjure up any knowledge of un-Dragoning lore with Caspian tucked by his side, it would be nothing short of magical.

“We will help, upon one condition,” Edmund said, quite soberly. Caspian gave him a curious look. He paused for dramatic effect before explaining, “You must never, ever call me _High King Edmund_ again.”

Caspian shoved at him. “Get off! I didn’t know how it worked!”

The breeze caught Edmund’s guffaws and set them whirling out over the breakers.

-

One sleeping eye opened, whiskers twitching at the sound of their Majesties’ voices.

“I’ve never seen these constellations before.”

“Me neither. We’re a long way from home…”

Reepicheep yawned, curled into a tighter ball, and slept on, lulled by the sound of his Kings’ voices in harmony.


	2. Chapter 2

“Edmund. _Ed.”_

The jolt of waking drew him out of the darkness like cold water splashed across his skin, although it was only Caspian’s hands through the billows of his shirt, clutching at his shoulders, shaking him gently.

“ ‘m fine,” he protested, but he was anything but fine, clammy-skinned, a scream still curled in his throat, the edges of a Witch etched in his vision. At least Caspian would not be able to see him like this, anything but an outline in the deep dark of the hull.

“No. You’re not,” said Caspian, and pressed harder. “What did you see?”

It had been visiting them both. Them all, down below, if the groans of the other men were anything to go by, but Edmund was a deep sleeper, and had only had ears for Caspian, with their hammocks slung close and...everything else. He shifted, not wanting Caspian to know the worst of it.

“Ed,” Caspian said hoarsely, so close Edmund could feel the warmth of his breath.

“What do you think?” Edmund burst out. He was shaking, soaked to the skin. He lowered his voice to a rough rasp only by sheer will, so as not to wake the others. “I saw Her, all right? The Witch. You saw her, in Aslan’s Howe. She calls to me, as she called to you. And always, always, I shake her off. But…”

Caspian’s fingers dug into his shoulders. “But.”

Edmund clutched back. “It’s harder. Every time.” He sucked in a breath, raw and blatant, hating the sound. Hating that Caspian could hear it all, feel it all. “I won, damn it all! I struck her down twice. And it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t play fair…”

Because of course she didn’t. And he was a fool to think she should, or would, because she never really died.

He felt a cool - cooler - forehead press against his own. “I know, Ed.” Caspian’s hands slid behind his head, thumbs cupping his jaw, and Edmund thought about resisting but honestly, he didn’t have that kind of strength. He leaned into the touch, gripping at Caspian’s shoulders, squeezing hard.

The darkness cradled a few breaths, the connection of hands and shoulders and face, and if there was any poison to tinge it, Edmund was ready to drink a vial of it. 

“You won,” Caspian said, fingers tightening. “And you will win again, and again and again.” 

An age-old fight, and a King in his corner.

Edmund fisted at the fine linen sleep-shirt. “Why were you awake?”

A low exhale above him. “I don’t - ”

“Try again.”

Another breath. And then. “I keep dreaming. About my father. Alive, but dying. Over, and over. Each time, it’s a new way. Each time, it’s like hearing about it for the first time.”

Edmund said nothing, only pulled him down, down into the dangerous limits of his hammock, and Caspian tumbled there, and whatever else they might have felt at the lines of their bodies suddenly meeting and pressing, it was secondary to the knowledge that they need not fight this night alone.

Caspian’s forehead tipped against his collarbone, and that was the most innocent of the ways they twined within the hammock, and Edmund knew he could have pressed his luck. 

He didn’t.

“Let me stand watch for your dreams.” He cupped a hand protectively at Caspian’s temple, slipping back a lock of hair, and perhaps Caspian would not know how great a sacrifice it was, Edmund giving up his precious sleep, but oh, how it would be worth it. 

Caspian sighed. “I have not slept well, for nights and nights.”

Edmund dared to turn lips to the chiseled line of jaw, bearded by the years. “Try. Tonight.”

“But...if…”

“I don’t care.” No Dragon could guard its hoard so jealously as Edmund would guard Caspian’s dreams. Whatever came there, if it bode ill, he would drive it away.

Caspian squeezed his shoulder. “You are a good man, Ed.”

Edmund tucked his blanket around the both of them. “Not as much as you think.” _But for you, I could be._


	3. Chapter 3

The mood aboard the ship plummeted after the great storm. With food and water running low, the Dawn Treader in tatters, and no sign of land ahead, morale quickly became a ship-wide problem. They all were feeling the effects, but the mutterings among the men were stirring up trouble. Mutiny. A dark course. Edmund and Caspian had emerged from the council chamber to find the beginnings of it on their hands. The men looked to Caspian for answers. And Caspian kept looking at _him_ as if for answers. Edmund pleaded with him silently to simply stand up, be King, and give the men what they wanted: hope, direction. But Caspian needed it too, and orders weren’t enough, and if they hadn’t found land…

Thank the Lion, they had.

What followed felt like reprieve, for a while. After that island, they’d restocked for the rest of the journey, and life had settled into something of a routine. He would come to Caspian’s suite for council - and though Lucy had Caspian’s cabin, now, there was still a whole study complete with stained glass windows in which to take private council - and Edmund always felt as though there were eyes upon them emerging from it, because certainly there were, and the Dawn Treader was small enough quarters for rumours to spread, and Edmund almost wished there were reason for it, if there were going to be rumours at all. They had been tempted. They almost faltered. 

But with the Blue Star at their back, Dark Island drawing ever closer, they would need to arm themselves with every ounce of courage they had. And this...this took courage. With Caspian’s fingers girding his armour shut, he knew the time for waiting had come and gone. "I want you to know I think of you as my brother, Ed." Something - some flicker of fear, perhaps - had made Edmund reply in kind. He wanted so badly to say what was truly in his heart. But then Caspian had given him the treasure of Narnia to bear with him into battle. He caught the proffered sword. Peter’s. 

Caspian was a brother in arms, and far, far more.

“All right.” Edmund buckled it onto his belt loop, sensible of the gesture...and returning one of his own, hands at Caspian’s belt. Bits of armour clanked, and something long dormant sang in Edmund’s blood. He reached up. “But not _just_ a brother.”

And he kissed Caspian, metal scraping, leather butting up against each other. He wondered what it would be like, another moment for this. If he’d kissed Caspian any of the times in their war council, or any of the times in their bunks. Any other time but when they were headed into the stuff of nightmares.

Caspian’s hands gritted over leather and metal. Fabric and flesh, what little remained at wrist and shoulder. One hand pulled him close at the hip, armour biting, but nothing girding lower, where trousers were thin and concealed little. Edmund’s mouth tugged fiercely, to feel Caspian respond to him, stiffening between his legs.

“No,” Caspian husked, into the curve of his neck above the pauldron. “Not just a brother.”

What awaited them - their worst nightmares, their darkest wishes - was uncertain. They were both no stranger to battles, or saying goodbyes. They shouldn’t leave this one unspoken.

“I can think of worse things to falter to,” Edmund said, palming Caspian, pressing the heel of his hand to the line of his cock. Caspian grunted into his shoulder.

“Lion, Ed. How can - ”

Edmund grabbed a strap of Caspian’s armour. “Let’s have one good wish. Just one.”

One less temptation, out there. A low breath out. “Quick, then.”

It was quick, quicker than Edmund would have thought possible. Just the fronts of trousers unlaced, for anything would have taken precious time, and hands gripping each other’s cocks, and hungry gulps of kisses, holding onto whatever they could find. They didn’t need desperation to throw on the fire of what burned between them, but it was there anyways. This was how it would be - it was what they had - and sweet Stars it was good.

So much, all at once. What he would have liked to learn slowly and thoroughly was suddenly thrust upon him in a surfeit of knowledge. How Caspian moaned when his grip tightened and slid upwards simultaneously. How his body wept when Edmund thumbed his tip, slicking the passage of palm and encircling fingers. How his hand went slack around Edmund, before he pressed a knee closer and Edmund understood what he intended. He shifted his groin closer so that Caspian could grip both of them in one hand.

“Much better,” he agreed.

And it was so much better than anything he’d imagined, the feel of Caspian sliding against him, caught between the warmth of his hand and of his body. With a newly freed hand, Edmund curled his fingertips around the muscle flanking Caspian’s buttock to keep their hips locked close. Even mostly clothed and armed as they were, heat flooded him from every point of connection. He buried his fingers in Caspian’s hair, kissed him hard, rutted up against him hard. 

Quick, too quick. Edmund knew it, but that was the point too, to have this together, swiftly, to return to their duties without delay. He shuddered and spilled over Caspian’s hand, over his cock, into the cup of Caspian’s other hand both caressing him and protecting their clothing. A moment or two later, he felt the tightening of Caspian’s body, the corresponding pulse of flesh, a wash of come to join his own.

Edmund held him close as long as he dared. Only a few breaths, just long enough to store away the memory of how perfect it felt to fit together. A good sort of dream, to stave off nightmares.

Caspian, eyes closed, sighed. His breath stirred Edmund’s hair. “We should - “

“I know.”

And they did. With a few awkward laughs as they cleaned up, set things back to rights, and finished any last preparations for the coming battle. The unspoken companionship of it all was recompense for any lingering wistfulness that they could not take any longer.

-

After they emerged from the cabin, Edmund turned to make his way into the assemblage of men, intending to station himself on the main deck behind all the others and survey their situation. Caspian grasped his arm. “Aren’t you going to back me up?”

Edmund knew what he meant. To flank him when he spoke to the men, to represent old Narnia and the inherent blessing of Aslan in their quest. It had been their way, throughout this journey. It couldn’t stay that way forever. 

He clasped Caspian’s arm in return. “Always,” he vowed. “But they need to see you as King. You, and you alone.” For when I’m gone. His fingers tightened, his gaze unwavering. “You are Narnia’s King now. Show them.”

Staring back, Caspian took in his words. And when he raised his chin, mouth set in a firm line, Edmund saw Narnia’s King in his face. “I will. Take care, Edmund.”

As he’d planned, he watched from the lower deck, at the back of all their adventurers, as Caspian, standing tall and proud at the forecastle, commended and exhorted, commanded and led by example. 

“Now is not the time to fall to fears and temptations. Be strong. Never give in.” A glance at Edmund, who silently cheered him on with every fiber of his body. “Our world, our Narnian lives depend on it.Think of the lost souls we are here to save. Think of Aslan.” Caspian’s gaze bore into each of their crew. “Think of Narnia.” There was no flicker of doubt in the man who was once a Telmarine Prince, and who was now, beyond all doubt, the King of Narnia.

“For Narnia!” The rallying cry sprang up, all around them, caught by every soul aboard the Dawn Treader. “For Narnia!” Hope took root in every heart that heard it and cried it, a hope with the strength they would sorely need for the test that lay ahead. 

Edmund didn’t care that pride glowed from him like a torch lit up. He was uncontainably proud of his King. And he let Caspian see it, when their eyes next met across the deck.

_-finis-_


End file.
